


I Have No Master (Anymore), Except the Wind that Blows Free

by angeltheatre, BGtheRobit, fluffycoffee, LiterallyCantChooseJustOneFandom, StupidPotato159, ValentineAro



Series: ArSonic AU [11]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comic), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Arson, Arsonist AU, Feelings, Feels, Freedom Fighters, M/M, Previous Torture, Spark is Sonic, torture not shown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeltheatre/pseuds/angeltheatre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGtheRobit/pseuds/BGtheRobit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffycoffee/pseuds/fluffycoffee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyCantChooseJustOneFandom/pseuds/LiterallyCantChooseJustOneFandom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidPotato159/pseuds/StupidPotato159, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineAro/pseuds/ValentineAro
Relationships: Scourge the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Series: ArSonic AU [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803721
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	I Have No Master (Anymore), Except the Wind that Blows Free

The fire everywhere wasn’t new. Spark had set plenty of fires and will do it again. He’d set bigger fires before too while he was recovering with Ivo.

But this? This fire meant so much more.

Every fire had its story. The one for the candle in its room had been borne of vats of heat, set to perfection with the comforting scents of vanilla and lavender. The fire he sparked in Mercia the other day? The flames were a great revenge, Rob o’the Hedge lived in a stolen castle, its history one of bloodshed and invasion. Those flames put that cycle to an end, bathing the castle walls in a renewed potential.

This fire’s history was the same as Spark’s.

It had begun at Freedom HQ, just as Spark had. It had grown steadily and warmed the rest of the village until winds spread it, engulfing the village one house at a time. And when it got to the castle, it cheerily sparked up the walls. 

But died in the dungeon. Even as Spark entered it with his own compact flamethrowers it didn’t seem like this place could burn. Not because it wouldn’t catch fire -- maybe it couldn’t -- but because Spark couldn’t bring himself to set this place, this one place on fire.

It was his hatred for this place that put him where he was in the first place. 

He was first placed here when he was seven. The next when he was nine. The second lock-up was when everything started. When he learned what the feeling of personal betrayal felt like.  _ When everything started hurting and it never stopped.  _

How old was Spark now? 15? 16? He could be 17 by now, but he wouldn’t know at this rate. The years really did just string together, didn’t they?

And he didn’t get a moment of rest throughout all of those years. Everything just felt so long. So  _ painful _ .

He heard someone enter the dungeons behind him, but it didn’t really matter, did it? Not when it all kept coming back.    
  
He wasn’t aware of anything, really, too much in his own head to notice who came in nor care about his slight shaking, his grip on both reality and his gun unsteady. He only snapped into reality when a loud  _ clank _ of the flame-spewing object fell onto the floor at his feet, trying to stop breathing so quick. Why was he breathing so quick? Did he accidentally set the room on fire? There wasnt any flames or smoke….   
  
There was muttering behind him now, luring him to turn around. There stood his former team, cheeks ashen and dirty with soot. They were just standing there, weren’t they? Like they always did. 

No.

This wasn’t their fault.

Spark would always know who’s fault it was.

He raced past them, entering a hall full of flames and smoke, guards running to and from with buckets of water and fire extinguishers. He didn’t pause for a moment, not realizing that he left his flamethrower back in the downstairs hall of horrors. 

Stairs felt like nothing, carpet and hardwood not making a difference. He knew where he was going on instinct. Reaching the vault, he was and wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t changed the passcode after he left. 

There he was.

Max. 

That bastard.

Spark raced in, punching Elias in the face, knocking him out without a second thought. Alicia was thrown aside without a second thought.  _ It was just him and Max now. _ For someone who had caused so much pain, he was so  _ fragile _ . 

It was easy to grab him out of his wheelchair and throw him to the ground. It was easy to blacken his eye. It was easy to hold Max down and wrap shaking hands around his throat. It was easy for Spark to relish in the choking gasps. 

He felt hands on his shoulders and suddenly, he was pulled back, facing Alicia as she held her husband towards her, glaring at Spark with an expression that wasn’t anger. It was matched in Max’s face. It was a familiar expression, yet not one he’s seen on either of their faces before.

Oh. 

It was fear. 

They feared him.  _ He _ feared him. The irony would almost be funny if it wasn’t horrifying. Spark turned back and out of the vault. Out of the castle. Out of the village that was being laid waste to by badniks. Out of sight of the entire area. 

He didn’t stop until he got back home, Scourge flipping through the channels on the TV.

“Hey, back so -” Scourge cut himself off. “What happened?”

  
Spark  _ slowly _ made his way onto the couch, snuggling in close to the other. “Everything.”


End file.
